Comfort - Nate
by suicidalunicorn97
Summary: This is the first in a series of Leverage one-shots where the characters of Leverage find out about your self harm. Here's Nate :)
**This is the first in a series of one-shots where the characters of Leverage find out about your self harm. Here's Nate. I'm probably gonna do Eliot next :)**

 **(Y/N is your name)**

* * *

 **NATE:**

"Hey, Y/N, how's that plan coming along?" Nate's voice startled you; you'd forgotten you still had your earpiece in.

You were in charge of coming up with a 'plan B' in case anything went wrong on this case. You hadn't been able to come up with anything so far. The depression was bad again, clouding your thoughts. Right now you were finding relief the only way you knew how: through a blade.

You were alone in your apartment, sitting on the bathroom floor up against the tub. Clutching a razor in your hand, fresh blood dripped down your thighs. This was the only way you knew how to stop the darkness. Crimson lines cut through the gray fog and allowed your mind to start working again.

"The plan...uh, yeah, going great." You lied.

There was a pause. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes." You were too tired to give a proper response. Reaching into your ear, you removed the earpiece and switched it off. There were enough voices in your head already.

Ten minutes later, you heard the doorbell ring. You hadn't moved from the bathroom floor. Your brain was too hazy. You needed to cut more, feel _something, anything._ There was a lot of blood now. Maybe you'd gotten carried away. But you didn't care.

You sighed and shakily pulled yourself up, slipping on your black sweatpants so the blood wouldn't show. You walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You'd deal with the mess later.

The doorbell rang again and you ignored it, instead sinking into the couch. It was probably just the Jehovah's Witnesses again.

"Y/N! Open the door!" A familiar voice called out, and your eyes widened in surprise. Nate?

You stood up too fast, and your vision started to blur. Ugh, definitely got carried away this time. You limped to the door and opened it, finding a sweaty Nathan Ford standing on the other side. "Took you long enough." He said, breathing hard. "Now what's wrong?"

"What?" You couldn't believe he'd run all the way here. He pushed past you, entering your apartment.

"Nate, you can't just come in here and-"

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong."

Geez, this man was stubborn. You shut the door and folded your arms across your chest. "What makes you think something is wrong?"

"Really?" Nate scoffed. "Y/N, I know my team. I know _you._ I can tell when something's up."

"I'm too tired for this." You sighed and sat on the couch. "I'm fine, you can go now."

He plopped down beside you and grabbed the remote, switching on the TV.

"What are you-?"

"I didn't run two blocks just to get kicked out the minute I got here. Might as well hang out here for a bit."

You felt bad. Nate was only trying to help, and you were being rude. "Can I get you anything? Water?"

He smiled. "Thanks, but I'm good." He put a hand on your leg, and you winced. "Are you alright?" Nate pulled his hand back and it came away red. "What the...?"

Your eyes widened, and you started to panic. "Oh, I, uh, cut myself shaving."

"It's physically impossible for this much blood to come from a shaving cut. Come on, let me take a look at it. Go put some shorts on. I'll wait." Concern filled his blue eyes.

"It's nothing."

"Y/N, you're lucky I don't take you to a hospital. What happened?"

"Side job went south." You lied. "I stole something from a gangster. He wasn't happy."

Nate raised his eyebrow, looking doubtful. "And you didn't take care of the wound?"

You shrugged. "I uh, forgot?"

"What am I gonna do with you?" He mumbled, getting up to look for your first aid kit.

"Nate, I'll take care of it myself, I promise!"

He sat on the coffee table across from you, first aid kit in hand. "I'm already here, I might as well."

You felt like running, but knew you wouldn't get far.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's get this over with."

"Nate, I don't feel comfortable-"

"That's BS. You stripped naked in front of me in an elevator once, remember? Just take your pants off and let me see how bad it is!" You could tell he was getting increasingly worried.

"That was different. I was changing into something for a job."

"Y/N," He said your name softly. "Please let me help you."

You felt trapped. "Please don't think any differently of me..." You whispered.

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see." You shimmied out of your sweatpants, trying not to cry out as the fabric brushed against your mutilated skin.

Nate inhaled sharply. "Y/N," he breathed. He sat in shock, just staring at the bloody mess that was your thighs. "Why?"

You couldn't look at him. "It helps."

"Helps what?"

"Sometimes...sometimes I get depressed and I can't think...this helps kinda give my brain a kick start, pulls me out of it."

"Y/N, you've gotta find a different way...You're gonna kill yourself." He looked sick.

"I'm sorry." You whispered.

He began to clean the cuts with an antiseptic wipe. You hissed as the alcohol stung the wounds.

"Easy," He took your hand in a gesture of comfort.

After he'd finished bandaging you up, he sat on the couch beside you. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, he put his arm around you and held you close.

"I can't lose you, Y/N, the team needs you. **_I_** need you." He kissed the top of your head. "We'll get through this."

You relaxed into his embrace, and sniffled. "Thanks, Nate." You said softly. Maybe things would be okay after all.

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 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Self harm is serious. It's not romantic or cute. If you're intentionally harming yourself, please seek help. I don't mean to glorify it or anything, I just write these stories to help with my own self harm addiction. If you need someone to talk to, PM me and I'll give you my number. Stay strong everyone.**


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